Heart of Darkness
by Mori'draug Arthye
Summary: AU, Season 3. What if Kimberly never left? What if she was stolen away by a demon in a mask? This is the story of what happens when the light goes out, and the monsters come out. This is the story of how pain and addiction can be broken. Darkness Fic


**Set in Season 3- if Kimberly never left.**

**Authors Note: I've had this set in my mind for a very long time. Since I was about 13. I've been obsessed with this, mainly because of how great this could effect someone like Kimberly. Kimberly was probably the brightest, most sassiest of the whole group, and to have this happen to her.. Well, it's an interesting concept. I'm dealing with one of the ways she may or may have not turned out. **

**BTW, my readers of To Set the Darkness Echoing, I will be posting more soon. I just had to get this out. I will be continuing this as well, if it's well received. **

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It was dark. She knew that. So very dark.. and so very dim.

The fog had descended upon the pink ranger, and all she could do was float in the dream-like state of nothingness. Long had she given up hope of escaping. Long had she given up hope of being found. Long had she given up hope of being rescued. Long had she given up hope that she'd see sunshine again.

Long had she given up on life.

As quick as lightning she felt a blow to her midsection, and she knew it was time to wake up once more. In her dream she rolled over, wanting to pull the pillow over her head and forget it all, but she knew, she knew very well what would happen if she didn't arise. She'd felt it twice before.

Kick.

She'd have to wake up. But she didn't want to, she wanted to stay in the nice darkness, alone, _safe_!

Kick.

She felt wind pushing past her roughly, and she knew that she was flying through the nothingness that was her mind back to her body. And then, suddenly, she was awake. She felt one more blow to her stomach before she opened her eyes, and she looked up at her tormentor. Not that she knew what he looked like- he always wore that damned mask. One of those mime masks. Half happy, half sad. Just plain white. He was standing next to her, and she was lying down on the floor curled up, her arms curled under her head like a pillow, her legs curled up in an attempt to protect her bare stomach and body. She was right up against the wall. The only place she could be, with chains around her ankles and wrists. She couldn't even move a meter away from the wall. Her normally tanned skin was now a rancid pale colour, and her normally well managed hair was a complete tangled mess. Her body, tiny and emaciated, clammy as the skin also bore marks of abuse. Scars, burn marks. Welts, bruises and congealed blood. Instantly she lowered her eyes to the ground. She didn't move. She knew not to move.

The man behind the mask laughed lightly, as if it was a joke. As if her pain was a joke. He gently caressed her face with a gloved hand, whispering, "Ah, my darling.. Your master has a present for you. You want your present, don't you, my little pet?" When there was no response, he chuckled and grinned. "Of course you do."

She hung limply in the chains as he pressed her up against the wall, her head bowed slightly and her eyes staring out at nothing from underneath her matted fringe. Minutes passed and suddenly she was pushed to her knees, and she opened her mouth as she was so well trained to do..

_She was thrown into the memory, of several months previous.. Pain, blood, everything everywhere. She watched herself as she fled to the corner of the room as the broad-tailed whip caught her on her stomach. She ended up sinking to the floor, her body racked with sobs as blow after blow came into contact with her shaking form._

_As his large muscled form plowed into hers she clutched at his shoulders, tears of pain running down her face as embarrassed, cries of pleasure warbled out of her throat. When they lay together on the sweat-soaked mattress that he sometimes let her sleep upon, he grinned from behind that mask and turned to her, running a large, calloused hand down from her collar bone to one of her more private places, whispering in her ear, "You loved it, didn't you? My little whore.."  
_

She pulled herself together in time to watch as he pulled away, and she pushed herself so she was sitting calmly. She heard him do up his zipper, and he turned around to face her. "You're a good pet.. your master appreciates your hard work." She could tell he was grinning behind that mask, but somehow she didn't care. Only when he brandished a syringe did she begin to pay attention.

Her drug.

Her eyes took on a hungry quality, and she feverishly licked her cracked and dry lips.

"Ah.. so you want this, don't you my little slave?" She nodded eagerly, and he laughed. "Then have it you shall. You're such a good little girl." She stood with renewed energy and tried moving towards him, pulling herself as hard as she could against the chains until they cut slices into her wrists and ankles. And he laughed again. "So eager.." He briskly stalked towards her and sank the syringe into her neck, watching as she fell limp and moaned loudly as the contents were released into her bloodstream. And he grinned as he released far too much. He laughed sadistically as she dropped to the floor, convulsing feverishly, twirling the syringe around in his fingers as he listened to her moan and writhe for more. He watched for a few moments, watching her shake and convulse in pleasure as the drug- one that he'd discovered by himself- bled it's way through her system, as it made her see things that weren't there, as it made her senses tingle, and as it made her reality even more warped. He shut the steel door, locking it, before whipping the mask off, showing the demon behind the angels' veil.

Calm exterior, calm features, calm face, her master's eyes were a cool dark brown, settled into a handsome face. The angel, to everyone else was her demon, and Jason, to everyone else was the old Red Power Ranger. Strong, fast, courageous and kind.

But to Kimberly Hart.. he was her nightmare.


End file.
